The Extravagant
by Juki
Summary: Amon finds Robin hovering over a thoroughly scorched body. Condemned by evidence, will Amon pull the trigger and end Robin’s life? One shot; Jewel – Foolish Games. RR please.


The Extravagant

By: Juki

Forgive me, for I am _jaded_.

His elongated shadow etched stealthily into the darkness, barely traceable contrasts, for who is he but the absence of light? Only the fragile lapses of scattered moons, beading through his broken silhouette, echoed to her hollowed retinas. Surrounded by the bittersweet fragrance of scorched flesh, her blandness blended quietly into the pouring rain, as the smoldering entrails of the forbidden sheepishly spiraled into the wind.

The crisp resound of splitting raindrops on broken glass hushed the terse lashes of his flayed trench. Her lips parted, in secret hunger, in panting anticipation. Screened in a silver frame, his body lost in the ripples of his coat, he kept his distance. She had come to realize nothing could escape his scrutiny, neither man nor God, no less a sinner. She followed his gaze across the smoldered earth, the unforgivable taste of burning flesh, the broken glasses that led to the whispers of a truth unveiling.

_I watched from my window,_

_¡Kalways felt I was outside looking in on you_

You were always the mysterious one 

_¡Kwith dark eyes and careless hair,_

A knowing smile carved into her face, one that is softened by the barrier of the storm. She lowered her eyes the moment he finally looked. As she melted submissively beneath the intensity of his stare, her soul throbbed against her mortal frame. Abandoned in the presence of a fabricated perfection, she allowed her heart to die for the sake of feasting upon the notion of existing to him.

She closed her eyes when the sound of shifting metals pulsated through the wind. She submitted to the whims of his judgment. What stirred within her weren't fear but elation, not for what she had done, but on the mere chance of inspiring something more than apathy within his callus heart. The notorious click of his trigger terminated the minute she had decided to immortalize. He would not ask and she would not explain.

Without hesitation, he lifted his arm. His eyes narrowed habitually as he honed in on his target. Had it ever crossed his mind that this could be his making? Or had this always been his final destination? Stalemate, he waited, waited for her to give an answer ¡V one that would save her and one that would devour his pride.

_Well in case you failed to notice,_

_In case you failed to see,_

_This is my heart bleeding before you,_

_This is me down on my knees¡K_

She had always been the only one who chose to be seduced by the ordinary. An exquisite self, immersed in filth, disguised as something bland and uninteresting. Her tailored grays and fashioned blacks told a story of monotony and naivety, the flickers in her eyes whispered otherwise. Her ignorant curiosity plunged her into firm hands that are readily opened to crush her.

Brokenness didn't suit her, he mused as he blinked away the sorrow that seeped into his eyes. He blinked again to clear away the veil of oil washed into his eyes and tensed from the immediate toll it had on his vision. He had always relied on his sight, his instinct and his analytical mind that had driven him to this glorious repetition of history. It had been an ordinary morning, one that she alone could appreciate.

Her knees throbbed with soreness as the back of her hand frosted over from the lackadaisical slap of winter rain. Caged within the gap he had wedged between them, she freed her mind to conceive what reality would not reveal. She pictured a battered heart exiled into the crevices of pain and a tattered soul too weak to protest. She envisioned his secret yearning and thought she heard his cry resound through a firing bullet.

Taken by her intuition, she vanished among the bland and faceless tide that she adored. Her bemused opinion was never cleared due to her inappropriate stretches of silence and condemned her to misconception. What lay before his eyes is the cadaver of some faceless man, a Seraph fallen from grace and every finger that damned her.

_Then you stood in my doorway, with nothing to say_

_besides some comment on the weather¡K_

His eyes broke free from her momentarily to take in the shattered frame and broken glass. Her eyes slowly opened the moment his distracted glance flickered away. She climbed to her feet and staggered for balance as she began the perilous task of bridging their distance. Not once did he waver, he would not ask and she would not explain.

"A-Amon." Her raspy murmur scraped against him ¡V utter cacophony to his ears. The click of her heels grew louder as she neared, along with the sound of scraping glass gathered beneath the train of her robe. As if realizing this, his eyes widened instantly the moment she was close enough to touch him with her soul. His hand flinched for the first time as the thunderous bang of the gun exploded around them.

Then again, the second shot, the third, fourth, sixth. Troubled by the inevitable, he watched as they sailed toward her, shredding her hair ribbon, tattering her sleeve, brushing up against the lobe of her ear. Strand by strand, her ocher tress unraveled before him, a thousand secrets unfolding magnificently at once.

_You took your coat off and stood in the rain,_

You were always crazy like that¡K 

The sound of metal colliding earth startled her. He snapped forward and wove his fingers into her hair. Grasping the dampen silks in his clutch, he seized her being and devoured it. His angry lips set her mouth aflame and the wave of his presence ¡V a merciless tide. She drowned in his touch, a magnetic bond that can never be shaken. She closed her eyes as her window closed the moment reality rained down upon them like brilliant meteors. Drenched in secrets, in the forbidden, she finally realized her thoughts could never begin to conceive the extent of his extravagance.


End file.
